And then it turned into a thing
by Dark K. Sly
Summary: And here Foggy thought there wouldn't be anything weirder in his life than his best friend being a superhero.
1. and then it turned into a thing

It was kind of turning into a thing, and Foggy wasn't sure how he felt about it.

The thing that was turning into a thing were cute people being accused of something they swore they didn't do, Matt smiling at them, and they falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.

The person, in this case, was a boy, probably a student, couple of years younger than them, and he totally looked like Bambi. Big brown eyes, and mouth always a little open, hair sticking out everywhere, the slightest desperate air about him and, of course, Matt said they'd take his case.

The kid, of course, didn't have any money.

Why did Foggy even bother anymore?

 **X**

The thing with Matt being a superhero by night was that, by day, Foggy had to carry a _lot_ of extra weight in the firm, because his partner got beaten up, or cut up, or shot at, or a combination of all three. The problem with that was also that, as a good New Yorker, he didn't drive (not that he could afford a car, anyway, with all the 'your smile and happiness is my payment' kind of paycheck Matt kept getting from cute people in general), so he walked around a lot, usually late at night.

You know who also has that same kind of habit? Muggers.

Muggers walk around late at night, usually trying to mug people who also walk around late at night.

Normally, Foggy was quick enough to run away, or alert enough to notice some guy coming at him, but tonight he was tired and cranky, and he didn't notice until the guy had thrown him against a wall and asked for his wallet.

He was about to ask where the hell was his superhero bestie was when the mugger was thrown off of him and got his ass thoroughly kicked.

He was about to thank Matt when he saw the guy was shorter than Matt.

The guy also had _glowing red eyes_ and fur.

Plus: no eyebrows.

His wallet was given back to him and… wolf… person… thing went away, jumping up a building like he was freaking Ezio or something.

Sighing, he decided he needed a drink and not to think about this kind of shit anymore.

 **X**

Of course that didn't happen.

 **X**

Bambi Guy kept coming back, and Foggy didn't even want to know. He just… he didn't.

He's more careful, though, now. He doesn't tell Matt he was almost mugged in an alley, because he'll never hear the end of it; but he starts carrying a can of pepper spray around – not that it really stops bad people from coming after him.

He'll give it to them, though – it's not reeeally about him walking around late at night: it's about him and Matt putting Fisk in jail, and also about him and Matt getting all the corruption/mob/bad guys related cases. There are a lot of people mad at them, and as they can't seem to find Matt, they come after Foggy.

Foggy, who's developing a serious damsel in distress complex, because Glowy Eyes Guy keeps coming back and helping him.

Which means that when _he_ gets to help Glowy Eyes Guy, he feels a little, you know, avenged.

Not that it's intentional, because it isn't – he's left the office earlier, for once, and he hears gunshots, and runs _towards_ it, because he's an idiot. All he sees is a fancy SUV speeding away, and Glowy Eyes Guy on the ground, _bleeding black stuff_.

"Sty… Style…" the guy gasps out, clearly in great pain, and Foggy giggles out of desperation.

"You're sure going with style, buddy, what with the black blood and all."

Glowy Eyes Guy shakes his head weakly, and then shoves his phone in Foggy's hands, screen in an accepted call.

"Derek? DEREK?" says a voice on the other end, and Foggy takes in a deep breath.

"Ahm, hey. Hi. I've got your… Derek? Here? Can I… ahm… take him somewhere, so he doesn't, you know, _die_?" he finishes a bit hysterically and the guy on the other end calms down a bit and rattles off an address.

Foggy gets Glowy Eyes… well, _Derek_ , apparently (and, seriously, what kind of superhero name is _Derek_? At least Matt Murdock is kind of… dignified. Like Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov – but _Derek_?) and gets him into a cab, all the while trying to pass off his state as a drunk person. The driver doesn't even look at them right, and gets them to the address in no time because, guess what? Stylish person on the phone over there lives, like, ten minutes away from their office.

Derek is clearly fading when they get to the right apartment, and before Foggy can even knock the door is open, and there, stained in paint and the palest face, is Bambi Guy.

What the hell?

"Fuck, Derek, couldn't you freaking hear the hunters? I _told_ you they were around, I swear to God", Bambi Guy curses his way into the apartment, supporting half of Derek's weight, and Foggy just kind of hangs around while he watches Bambi guy burning some sort of dust in a small dish, bringing it to Derek and shoving it at his wound.

Foggy kind of wants to protest, but he doesn't have the heart, because Derek starts yelling soon after, but it lasts less than a minute, and then his wound is closing up.

"Thank you", Derek gasps at him, and now Foggy finally notices he doesn't have fur, or red eyes, and he actually has eyebrows, and wow, Glowy Eyes Guy is _hot_.

"What were you even doing out, anyway? You knew the Calaveras were after us."

Foggy has no idea what a Calavera is, but it doesn't sound good while coupled with the word _hunter_ and also the fact that Derek was shot _by_ them. He doesn't really know Bambi Eyes, nor Derek, but the guy saved his life a couple of times, so he's inclined to put him in the Good Guys column.

Derek mumbles something, and Stiles snorts.

"Yeah, see, the whole point of you watching over him is so he can be safe, and you getting shot and having your crush drag you back home? Not making your lover boy safe, buddy."

Foggy thinks he should answer to that, because _clearly_ the guy got the wrong impression, but Derek smirks at the other guy instead.

"You can talk, stalking around Red Suit Guy, trying to put up magical protection in his office and pass it off as being in need of legal help."

"You're stalking Matt?" it's the part Foggy's brain can process, because he's pretty sure he just heard "magical" being used unironically, and he's not sure he's ready to handle that.

"I'm not stalking him!" Bambi Guy answers, a bit too quickly, "I'm just trying to, well, help him along. He goes around in that red suit and—"

"No red suit. No more red suit business, because if I hear you talking about his butt in the suit one more time—"

"Yeah, you're one to talk, _Oh, Stiles, he is so beautiful, and kind, and have you seen his eyes?_ "

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"Ok!" Foggy intervenes before both of them transform into five-year-old boys in front of him, "Someone needs to explain to me what is going on here, in a rational and factual manner, before I decide this is not my business, and inform my partner he's being stalked by… a Style."

"Stiles, dude. Stiles. It's my name."

"Your name is Stiles?" he can't quite keep the judgement out of his voice, but Bambi Guy doesn't even _try_ to keep his own judgement out of his face.

"You go by _Foggy_?"

"Fair enough."

He stares at them, and notices Derek is not as pale, his wounds are closed up, and the black… stuff has stopped coming out, although it's drying on his shirt and it's _gross_. He must make a face, because Derek looks down, winces and takes off his shirt, getting up to, probably, get a clean one out of what Foggy is going to assume is his room.

He stares a bit, and hears Stiles snort, with a quiet _show off_ thrown in.

Foggy shakes his head and looks at Bambi.

"So, what's up with you two?"

"Well, we moved to New York about a year and a half ago. We used to live in Queens, but… turns out spiders and wolves do not coexist well together, so we had to leave."

"And you chose Hell's Kitchen?" Foggy can't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Hey, until a year ago, this was a calm enough place. Then it all went to hell, and Derek started… prowling."

"Don't be overdramatic," Derek says, coming back from his room, clean (black) shirt on.

"Says the werewolf who almost bled out in his crush's arms."

"Crush?!" Foggy asks, surprise clear in his voice, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Sure, I mention werewolves, but _that_ is the part you focus on."

"Werewolves?" he repeats, and Derek looks down, sheepish.

Stiles stares from one to the other, gets up and grabs his keys.

"This is so not my show. I'm off."

"Happy stalking!" Derek shouts at him sarcastically.

"Happy explaining to the Lawyer that you have a crush on him because you like the way he smells!" Stiles yells back before shutting the door behind him.

On the couch, Derek's blushing.

And here Foggy thought there wouldn't be anything weirder in his life than his best friend being a superhero.


	2. and it grows

Matt is perfectly aware of his stalker, thank you very much.

He _has been_ aware of the kid following him, trying to be discrete for weeks now, and he's also perfectly aware that the kid found out he was the "Daredevil" days before he showed up at Nelson  & Murdock – which could only mean that the kid is either really good at following tracks or he's something much more dangerous than a college student with a suspicious roommate (boyfriend? Who knew, really) – neither is a really good thing for Matt, he knows, because this kid could be the one thing to connect Matthew Murdock to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, and then who would be able to keep Foggy safe, or Karen?

So he takes a bit of time every night to stop being the stalk _ee_ to play the stalk _er_ , and this is certainly a good time for it, since he can hear Foggy's voice inside the kid's apartment as he leaves, talking in whispers with the mysterious roommate.

Deciding not to get into that – after all, his best friend is entitled to at least _some_ secrets – he follows the kid as he exits the building and rushes towards one of the good (and cheap) fast foods joints near his building.

It wasn't anything exciting, really, but Matt couldn't help but want to follow the kid – Bambi Eyes, as Foggy kept calling him, and damn, but he was right. He was all long limbs and a careful grace, as if the second he stopped paying attention to his every little move he would just come crashing down. He always smelt faintly of paint, and Matt dearly wanted to ask him if he was studying art or if it was just a hobby, wanted to know what got him to Hell's Kitchen, and where had he come from, what was his _real_ relationship with his roommate and why…

… why THE HELL was the kid being taken into a black SUV from the door of a completely safe restaurant at this time of night?

There really isn't much thought process involved – he just follows the car as best as he can, and thankfully, they don't go very far. He's really not surprised at all by the fact that Bambi Eyes is pushed out of the door and dragged into a warehouse – he's apparently bound and gagged, but still kicking up a fuss big enough that two guys had to work together to get him out and in the warehouse.

Matt stops by the door and listens in – four men and a woman, their heartbeats slow and steady, confirming Matt's suspicion that this isn't their first time kidnapping someone, while Stiles's heartbeat is, as always, a tad faster than the others, but steady too. He isn't freaked out, so much as he sounds pissed off.

The kidnappers didn't look particularly tough, and he's certainly had worse odds before, but something makes him pause in his rush to get in and get Stiles out of there – he has one chance. If he doesn't get this right, not only will the five people in there get away, but they might kill Stiles, and he can't really allow that.

Besides, even if he really doesn't want to admit it, it may be his only chance at finding out what the hell Stiles is, or was, what he wants, what he's doing in Hell's Kitchen, what made it possible for him to find Daredevil so fast.

"When is your wolf coming, Stilinski?"

The woman is conducting the interrogation, then. Matt goes up the side of the building, avoiding windows and the lights of the street, feet light on the roof.

There's a muffled sound and one of the guys chuckles, amused, and then Stiles is making gagging noises.

"Okay, first? You really should _ungag_ your victims before you ask them questions. And second? You shouldn't ask stupid questions, Araya. Derek's not coming."

"I'm not talking about Hale, Stilinski. Don't try my patience."

There's a pause, and Matt can hear Stiles's heart beating even faster – it's still not fear, though. It's something else.

"We are not a part of that anymore, Araya. I thought you knew that."

"I find that hard to believe."

"And so you went and _shot Derek_? Seriously?"

Araya makes a tsking noise, sighing afterwards, as if bothered by it.

"It has been dealt with. They are new to the service. It's hard to break new recruits out of old habits."

Matt hears Stiles snorting an almost laugh.

"You're picking up Argents' leftovers? They always did have a shoot first, never ask any questions because you might find out you're wrong attitude."

"Don't try and change the subject, Little Red. Where's your wolf? Why are you here? New York's never been territory to be disputed."

"No, it hasn't," Stiles' voice is tired, and suddenly Matt is much more invested in hearing their talk than actually saving Stiles. He doesn't seem to be afraid, really. Angry, maybe. Something in his voice sounds off, bitter, but not afraid – and no matter how brave someone is, when they think they might die, they're always afraid, "We're not in it anymore, Araya – I wouldn't lie to you, there's no point in it."

"Things haven't been good down there, Little Red."

There's something in her tone – almost sweet, almost wistful, as if that nickname is an endearment, and Stiles laughs a tiny bit at that.

Matt finds a way in, but doesn't go, he just sits and listens. It may not be his business, but it can't hurt to know more about this – he _did_ mention his roommate, who's currently with his best friend, being shot at.

"I wouldn't know. We left over a year ago, Derek and I. We don't want anything to do with it anymore."

"A year ago?" her voice is a bit surprised, and he can hear Stiles sighing deeply.

"Since the Asylum. Since Peter, since Braeden," Matt hears rope being fiddled with, and by the way they're moving, he gathers Stiles has been released from his bounds, "Since Lydia."

"The Banshee?" the woman's voice is careful, almost respectful, but Stiles's, when he answers, is downright _broken_.

"Yeah."

There's silence for a moment, and then some shuffling, footsteps getting away from the two people talking now – not an interrogation anymore.

"She had a great spirit."

"And they broke her. And then left her for dead," Stiles stops talking, and the woman waits. So does Matt, not even daring to move on the roof, "When Derek and I found her, deep in the Asylum, she had screamed until her throat was bleeding – Braeden, we think. Probably Peter too, she had such a strong connection with him. We couldn't really do anything for her anymore, after that. She was too far gone, and we didn't have a lot of time," his voice trails off a bit, and Matt can imagine him shrugging as Foggy told him Bambi Eyes is prone to, "We're not in it anymore. It's not a part of our lives, we don't want it to be. We just want to… live in peace."

The woman scoffs at that.

"Great place you picked for that, Little Red."

"They're just people, Araya. We can deal with people."

"So you really don't know about –"

"I don't, and I don't _want_ to. That's the whole point," Stiles cuts her off, and Matt hears the woman laughing quietly, "Derek knows nothing either. Might as well call us Jon Snow and leave it at that."

Araya's breathing is calm and calculated, considering her next move carefully.

"Your father?"

He hears Stiles shrugging calmly.

"Transferred. Scott's dad arranged it, they're helping each other with _your kind_ of cases when they can, but, really, Derek and I are out," he sighs again, sounding more tired than anything else, "Derek came here with Laura before, if it wasn't for Peter, he'd never have come back. And I just… I just want to finish college, ok? Scott gave us both a choice, and so did Chris, and we chose to leave. They respect that. You coming here breaks every single agreement we've come to – this isn't territory for _us_ , it's not for _you_ either."

The woman – Araya, apparently – seems to get a bit more agitated at that, but doesn't really relent, just sounds annoyed at it.

"There have been some rumors of Black Sky in these parts, Stiles. You can't blame me for being a tiny bit suspicious when I hear _you_ and your Hale are around this kind of thing."

"I don't even know what Black Sky is," Stiles answers, and Matt can hear the little smirk on his voice.

He can also hear the lie, clear as day.

"Now, Little Red, don't play this game with me, I don't have to be a wolf to know that was a lie," the woman pauses then, seeming to come to the end of her conversation, "But if you tell me all you're doing here is going to college, then there isn't much I can do, is there?"

"Well, you could _not shoot_ my roommate. Wolfsbane doesn't grow on trees, you know. At least not here."

Araya laughs quietly at that.

"I sincerely apologize, then, both to you and Hale. If you're telling me you know nothing of this whole Black Sky thing, then I believe you."

Matt hears Stiles getting up, his voice a bit more confident now than before.

"I'd leave that alone, if I were you, Araya. Most things going down in New York right now are so far out of our league it's not worth to get mixed up in it. You're great in your own turf, I don't think there's anyone better, really, but here? With this?" he snorts then, "None of us stand a chance."

Araya is quiet for a long moment, seeming to consider what the kid is saying, before sighing once more, and calling out for her men in Spanish.

"I'll take your word for it, Little Red. You want a ride?"

"Nah, thanks. I'll have company in about a minute, it's cool."

There are some shuffling noises, men moving and preparing to leave, and the sound of a bag being carried out of a car.

"Here," Araya says, putting a small bag on Stiles's hands, "For the shooting earlier, I hope you'll never have to use it again, but you never know."

"Thanks."

The woman and her men leave after that, and Stiles gets his phone out the second the cars disappear – Derek answers with a worried grunt on the first ring.

"First of all, I'm fine. It was Araya, we talked, but everything's fine. They're leaving. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, but for now, I think I'll have to talk to the Red Suit Guy. Call you later," he tells the other man in a hurry, and then hangs up, "So, are you going to get down from the roof, or you'll just follow me again?" the kid asks, raising his voice, and Matt can't help the small smile, carefully stepping down from the roof and stopping a few feet away from Stiles – he doesn't try to look intimidating or anything, but his whole posture has to change when he's in costume. He can't be just Matt.

Stiles tilts his head carefully to the side, studying him for a moment.

"So… you've been following me or was I just lucky that you saw them grab me?"

"You didn't seem to have a problem with being grabbed."

The kid hums in agreement, not really answering the unspoken question, but he sounds tired now, and Matt doesn't really know what to do here. Is this a rescue? A set up, a trap?

"You should _at least_ try to talk in a different voice. It's such a giveaway." Matt doesn't answer to that either, carefully considering his options – Stiles is not a threat, at least not an immediate one, but he's not completely sure the kid is his ally either. He _knows_ a lot, sure, but that is not a good thing, right? He feels as if he should be _more_ concerned about the situation here.

"Look, can we go somewhere and talk? Your associate is at my place right now, probably having to deal with Derek being a giant marshmallow despite his best efforts, so I feel this is the right moment for us to, you know, stop stalking each other and talk. If you want. Maybe you don't, I don't know."

Matt takes a deep breath, considering his options, but he doesn't have a whole lot to lose here, because Stiles _already knows_ everything that would be dangerous for him to know.

At least with an honest talk, they'll be in equal footing.

"You know where I live," he ends up saying before jumping on some crates and ending up out on the roof again.

"I'm surrounded by show offs," he hears Stiles muttering and it brings a smile to his face.

 **X**

It's not even twenty minutes later when he hears a knock on his door, and Matt makes sure the lights are on before opening it.

Stiles is a bit out of breath, as if he's run all the way to Matt's place – which might be true, considering where they were before, where they are now, and how long it took him to get here. Matt steps aside, and the kid gets in – his heart is hammering in his chest in a way it hadn't been even when being kidnapped, but, again, it's not fear.

He hears the kid's intake of breath in his living room and smirks a bit – he does enjoy the effect his windows have on new people.

Or maybe just on the stunning ones, with questionable character.

"How did you find out I was… _me_ so fast?"

Stiles turns around, staring at him intently.

"Jumping right in, huh?"

Matt shrugs and goes to the kitchen, coming back with two mugs filled with herbal tea.

"There's no point in dancing around this, is there?" he answers as he gives Stiles one of the mugs, and the kid takes it, sitting on the couch uninvited, still staring at Matt the whole time.

"Well, I really think the major question here is how, like, _all_ the people don't know your secret. The suit helps a bit, but when you were running around in jeans and a teenage mutant ninja turtle mask? It was just a matter of looking."

"Most people are thrown off my scent because of this," he tells Stiles, gesturing to his eyes, only to have the kid snort in answer.

"I've met people like you before, and he wasn't any less dangerous because he couldn't see," he pauses, considering before going on, "I don't think you're completely blind – now that you know I know who you are, you are constantly staring in my direction, even if I'm not speaking or moving. Maybe you can hear really well, maybe you can smell where I am, _maybe_ you can read my aura, but somehow, you see me. You see everyone."

"How did you find me, Stiles?" he asks again, his voice firm. Stiles is stalling, and now, for the first time tonight, he seems to be afraid. It worries Matt tremendously, because this is probably the safest Stiles could be, and yet his heart is hammering in his chest.

"Vanessa."

Matt's first reaction is to prepare for an attack – this is it. The cute kid, Bambi Eyes, the guy who seems to be the personification of innocence is probably an assassin hired by Vanessa to avenge Fisk. He didn't even know the woman was back in New York. Why hadn't they attacked earlier? Probably to have him exactly where they had him now – paralyzed. It was one thing to attack faceless men and thoughtless thugs, it was entirely another attacking _Stiles_ , the guy who went to him for help, whose roommate was now talking to Foggy.

They were all in danger.

"I'm an art student," Stiles goes on, not getting up, sipping his tea as to appear calm, but swallowing thickly, still afraid. Matt dares not move, just listening for the lie or the reasoning behind all of this, "We don't really have a lot of money, Derek and I. He has a major in journalism, but he hasn't been able to find any work except for freelance stuff, and my dad is a Sheriff in a tiny town in Indiana. Derek has enough that he can afford our rent, and food, but he has to be careful not to spend too much, and I needed to find work. It isn't easy, you know, finding work in my field, so when there was an opening for an assistant job at the Scene Contempo Gallery, I gave it my best," he stops talking and takes a deep breath. Matt steels himself, because he can see where this is going, and he's sure he won't like it, "Vanessa was cold, but polite, and she's so smart, man, you have no idea. She liked me, and she liked my stuff, even agreed to have some of it in the gallery, when there's space. I didn't… I didn't realize her boyfriend was on the wrong side of things until it was too late, and even then, who was I to say anything? So, one day I went to his place to leave some stuff from work for her, and I may or may not have heard some things I wasn't supposed to, and they were talking about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, the masked hero, and Fisk's assistant sounded _pissed_ on the phone," he pauses then and Matt can hear the reluctance in his voice, and this is what really _gets_ to him – Stiles _obviously_ cares for Vanessa, respects her, maybe even feel some sense of obligation towards her, even though she's helping Fisk.

It's hard to fight against villains who are this capable of captivating people.

"I saw you a few nights later. Derek gets pissy if I paint inside the apartment, so I usually go to the roof of the building. There's some coverage in there, and the smell of paint won't annoy him to hell and back, and he was there with me, and we – well, _he_ saw you. And he could smell you – blood and sweat and other people's blood," he shivers a bit, his voice trembling the slightest amount, "It was very disturbing. Two days after that, we passed by you and Foggy on the street, and Derek recognized your scent. That's how I knew you were you."

"Did you tell Vanessa?" his voice is tight and tinted with anger. Matt really didn't want to hate Stiles, but it wasn't just him this kid would put in danger, it was everyone around them.

"No! Dude, I'm not on their side! I can't exactly quit, because Vanessa is AWOL and it would look super suspicious, but when I realized you were the Daredevil? I made it my mission to try and protect you."

"Protect me?" Matt knows his voice sounds a bit mocking, but no one has ever _protected_ him – he is the one who takes care of people, not the other way around.

"Yes, protect you," anger is slowly replacing fear in Stiles's voice, "It's… It's my thing. I protect people. Plus, Derek has a crush on your associate, he's been trying to protect Foggy too."

"Stiles…" he starts but doesn't really know what to say – what _could_ he say? That Stiles trying to protect him is laughable at best? That there's no one on this Earth who could protect him?

"Look, you don't have to believe me. You don't even have to like it. Actually, you can ask me to leave and not come back, but just… be sure that I will keep doing my thing, and Derek will keep protecting and watching over Foggy, because that's what he does. This is what I do."

"What are you?" he asks, finally, the whole conversation between Stiles and the woman in the warehouse coming to mind again.

"I'm… me. You should ask what Derek is, if you want to go for the special kind of people."

"Is Derek some kind of superhuman? An experiment or a lab accident?"

The kid laughs a bit then, and Matt smiles along, because it's not a serious question, and Stiles knows it. When he answers, though, Matt can almost _hear_ the smirk on his voice.

"No, Derek's a werewolf."

Well, this is not what he was expecting.


End file.
